


Return to Me

by opalmatrix



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Death, Haunting, Loss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's gone.  End of story.  Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 was written in 2013 for Week 5 of [**weissvsaiyuki**](http://weissvsaiyuki.livejournal.com/). Prompt: _"Unnatural Tendencies" - The supernatural: vampires, the undead, hauntings, the occult, werewolves, psychic ability, magic, possession … ._ Beta on that chapter was by **[smillaraaq](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Smillaraaq/)**.
> 
> I started Chapter 2 shortly after that, but it languished unfinished until last month, when planning started for the latest [**weissvsaiyuki**](http://weissvsaiyuki.livejournal.com/) event, The Last Dance. Because I'd posted an excerpt from it at some point, it's not eligible for the current battle, so I'm posting it ahead of the challenge period. Beta on this chapter was by **[Avierra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avierra/pseuds/Avierra)**.
> 
> Chapters 3 & 4 (eligible for The ast Dance) added; Beta by **[Avierra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avierra/pseuds/Avierra)**.

Sanzo and Goku were the last to leave, as they had been the first to arrive. Hakkai shut the door behind them and turned back to his empty living room.

To his empty house. To his empty life.

They hadn't wanted to go: Goku because he was too tenderhearted to want to think of Hakkai by himself, Sanzo because he didn't trust Hakkai not to destroy himself. Hakkai didn't care about Sanzo's concerns at the moment: Hakkai's life was his own, and he would damn well do what he wanted to do with it. But Goku's worry and warmth reminded him all too much of Gojyo, and so that was what would keep Hakkai tied to life, at least for now.

It was past time for dinner, but Hakkai was not hungry. After the funeral, food had arrived at the house from his colleagues at the university where he taught part time, from the staff of the little bookstore that Gojyo had helped him run, from the neighbors. Goku had made him eat a plate of food and had then put all the rest away. The kitchen was overflowing with the generosity of people whose hearts were more open than his. All he could think of was which of the foods Gojyo would have wanted to eat: Sara Rubinfeld's brisket, the steamed buns from Chen's, Mrs. Williamson's sour cherry pie, the local microbrewery's dark beer.

On that thought, he went and fetched a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. He pulled a glass from the cupboard, then shook his head. Gojyo had liked it straight from the bottle. Hakkai popped the top off and breathed deeply: the smell made tears come to his dry, burned-out eyes. He took a Gojyo-sized swig from the bottle and then had to stop himself from choking on it.

This would not do. He couldn't waste Gojyo's favorite beer.

His windbreaker was slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and he fumbled in the pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the dribble from the side of his mouth. When he pulled it out, a long, red hair came out of the pocket with it.

He set the beer bottle on the counter next to the sink and wound the hair around his finger and looked at it, the way it caught the light. Abruptly he got to his feet and started patrolling around the house, looking under the couch, the easy chair, in the coat closet, in their room. Because of his own usually immaculate housekeeping, there were very few loose hairs, but he found nine after an hour's search.

He braided them into a long, thin cord and then coiled it around itself. He put it on the kitchen table, next to the program from the funeral service. Sanzo had conducted it: he rarely used his divinity degree, but they had all agreed that Gojyo wouldn't have wanted anyone else to do the job. On the back cover were the lyrics of what Gojyo had thought of as their song, and as the night wind sighed outside the house, the words suddenly struck Hakkai in the heart he wanted to forget he still had:

> When the night has come  
>  And the land is dark  
>  And the moon is the only light we'll see  
>  No I won't be afraid  
>  Oh, I won't be afraid  
>  Just as long as you stand, stand by me … 

To his distress, Hakkai realized that his tears were dripping onto the paper, and onto the coil of hair. He blotted them both with the beer-dampened handkerchief, and then, because there was no one there to see and to wonder, he tucked the shining coil inside the program and hugged it to himself.

> I won't cry, I won't cry  
>  No, I won't shed a tear  
>  Just as long as you stand, stand by me… 

Why did you do it? Hakkai repeated the words to himself. It was stupid, I told you not to. No one else in the world would imagine he should run across three lanes of traffic on an Interstate highway at night, no matter that there was a drunken teenager staggering along the road, near the median. They had nearly hit the girl, and when Hakkai had the Jeep safely pulled over in the breakdown lane, Gojyo had leapt from the car, taken a look back the way they had come, and said, quite calmly, "I'm goin' after her."

Hakkai had shouted at him to stop, that he was insane. Gojyo had darted into the road, picked the girl up bodily, and was dashing back to safety when a van came roaring up the right lane. It had swerved at the last minute, and Gojyo had flung the girl ahead of him, onto the verge, but the van had struck him pretty much at speed.

Later on, after the autopsy, they'd told him that the fender of the van had struck Gojyo in the hip, shattering his pelvis and part of his spine and throwing him onto the side of the road. There was massive internal bleeding. Hakkai must have screamed: later, he found that his throat was raw. He'd run to Gojyo's side, and found him conscious but unmoving. "Hey," he'd said, when Hakkai dropped to the pavement beside him.

"Gojyo —"

"Hey, I guess I'm pretty messed up. Can't feel my legs. Did she make it?"

Hakkai had gaped at him. He didn't care about the girl, for whose sake Gojyo was perhaps now dying, but Gojyo clearly did. Hakkai had glanced over his shoulder and saw her sitting up, holding her head. "She's fine," he'd said, as firmly as he could.

"C'mere, you," said Gojyo, and reached out to Hakkai. When Hakkai took his hand, Gojyo had pulled him over with surprising strength, pulled him down and kissed him. Hakkai tasted blood. "Hey, gorgeous. We shoulda got married, you know that?"

"Yes," whispered Hakkai. "But it wasn't legal."

"Sanzo would've done it. If we'd asked him to. Right?"

"Yes." Hakkai could hear the sound of emergency vehicles approaching. He buried his face in Gojyo's hair and felt Gojyo's long fingers riffling through his own tousled mop. 

"I'm always yours, whatever happens," whispered Gojyo. "Don't forget that."

He made a little hiccuping sound, then, and was still.

And that was that. They'd loaded him into the ambulance, but he was dead on arrival at the hospital. The girl was fine: scrapes, bruises, a mild concussion. Her parents had arrived to cry over her, and Hakkai, and thank goodness Sanzo and Goku had shown up to run interference, because Hakkai did not know what he might have said, or done, to the people who had produced the wayward girl who had taken his second love from him.

Four days ago. Hakkai thought he could still taste Gojyo's blood in his mouth. He retrieved the bottle of beer and gulped down the rest of it, as a chaser. Then he turned off all the lights and took the sad little beer- and tear-stained packet to the bedroom, where he tucked it under his pillow. He got ready for bed mechanically. Tomorrow he was going back to the store, because he could not bear to stay at home any longer. It would be a good idea to get some sleep.

Gojyo's old leather jacket, which he had not worn the night of his death, was on the bed. Hakkai turned off the light and hugged it to him. It was starting to smell more of just leather and less of Gojyo. He breathed deeply and tried not to remember the moment when Gojyo had slipped away. _I won't forget. I won't let you go._

He woke in the darkness, confused. A familiar weight was settling onto the other half of the bed. "Hey," said a husky voice, very softly.

"You're late," said Hakkai, and somehow had a feeling that he should have been saying more than that. Why?

"Sorry," said Gojyo's voice. "Feel like I've been walkin' for days."

Hakkai reached out and touched a bare shoulder. "You're cold," he whispered, and turned back the blankets and quilt. "Come here and let me warm you."

Cold arms wrapped around him, and a cold body pressed against him. Hakkai shuddered and tucked the bedding around them both. He was on the verge of asking where in the world Gojyo had been.

"That's so good," sighed Gojyo. "I think I got lost. M'sorry."

Hakkai pressed his lips against Gojyo's hair. His thoughts were swimming off into the darkness again. "Goodnight, Gojyo," he whispered, and that was all.

The alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. Hakkai's eyes did not want to open. They were gummy, his mouth was dry, and he felt awful. 

He was alone in bed, holding Gojyo's old jacket

 


	2. Chapter 2

"You look terrible," said Goku, when he arrived to open the coffee bar at the front of the bookstore.

Hakkai resisted the urge to say something tart. In any case, it was too much trouble. He felt as though he had the flu, although he had no respiratory symptoms.

"That's what I told him," said Sara gloomily from the floor of the Literature section, where she was restocking.

"You should go home," said Goku.

Hakkai's control broke. "And do what?" he asked, nastily.

Goku and Sara exchanged glances. Goku put the kettle on and set up a cup of oolong tea, presumably for Hakkai. Sara went into the back for another stack of novels. Hakkai bent his head over his laptop, where he was running inventories. Sara and Carter seem to have done a tolerable job while he was out, to his relief. Goku brought over the mug of tea and then began pulling coffee drinks for the students who were filtering in. Hakkai pushed his chair well back into his cubicle at the rear of the main room: he didn't feel like dealing with well wishers.

The day continued in the same fashion. Things got busy about 4:00 p.m., and Hakkai had to leave the cube to help run the check-out counter. His face quickly got tired of bringing up a sad little smile when people expressed their condolences. It had started to rain outside, and a cold draft blew in every time someone came through the door. The last of the late-winter daylight was fading when Goku brought Hakkai a cup of split pea soup and a half a turkey sandwich for supper. The soup went down easily enough, but Hakkai couldn't make himself eat more than a bite of the sandwich.

"Hakkai, you gotta eat more than that," scolded Goku, who had devoured two sandwiches and a huge bowl of soup himself between macchiatos and lattes.

Hakkai rubbed his face wearily. "I'll have an egg or something when I get home," he said, and instantly felt bad for lying. Goku would probably relate his worries to Sanzo when he got home, too, and Hakkai did not want to deal with a call from Sanzo about it later. "I'm going to go to bed early," he added.

"Yeah, get some sleep. You didn't sleep well last night, did ya?"

"No, I guess not."

"Were you havin' nightmares?"

Hakkai's mouth was forming the word "no," but then he stopped. _I think I got lost,_ said Gojyo's voice in his mind.

"Not nightmares," he said at last, "but I did dream."

Goku looked like he wanted to know more, but he was distracted by a last-minute rush of students looking for a caffeine fix before they started on their homework. Hakkai shut down and stowed his laptop an hour later. The case felt strangely heavy as he slung it over his shoulder and wished Goku and Carter a good night.

The walk home seemed longer than the three quarters of a mile that Hakkai knew it to be. The house was dark, and that was wrong too. Usually Gojyo was home a couple of hours before he was. Sometimes he would be watching TV, or playing a video game. Sometimes he would be puttering around, changing lightbulbs or oiling door hinges. Sometimes he would even start supper, especially if Hakkai left him a note and some instructions.

Hakkai let himself in and dropped the laptop by the door, a practice he abhorred, but he didn't feel like dragging it to his home office. The answering machine was blinking, but he didn't want to deal with that either. He went into the kitchen and dropped his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. In homage to his promise to Goku, he opened the refrigerator and stared at the eggs, but as he had predicted to himself, he decided he didn't want one.

He left the kitchen, turning out the lights, and retreated through the living room and upstairs to their bedroom. His bedroom. His nose and eyes burned at the thought. The bed was badly made, with Gojyo's jacket lying across the other pillow. Gojyo's pillow. Hakkai slipped his hand under his own pillow. The little packet was still there.

It would last longer if it weren't under his pillow. He rummaged in his dresser for a moment. Then he turned, reluctantly, to Gojyo's tall bureau. He knew where the handkerchiefs were. Gojyo almost never used them, but there was one he loved and always tucked into his breast pocket on the rare occasions when he wore a suit. 

_If we get married, you will have to wear a suit, Gojyo._

_Yeah, what a pain. But that means I get to use my favorite handkerchief._

It was carefully folded — of course no one had touched it since the last time Hakkai had gently ironed it and put it away. He pulled it out, and the vibrant tie-dyed red and yellow and orange flashed like sunshine in the dim room, like summer pool toys and carnival midways, sno-cones and watermelon slices, and Gojyo, Gojyo, Gojyo.

Hakkai's hand was shaking. He spread the handkerchief on the bed and then put the packet in the middle. He had visions of tying it up like a parcel, but the funeral program was not nearly sturdy enough for that. He went over to the bookcase and studied the top row, which contained Gojyo's haphazard collection of reading matter: a couple of thrillers, a few humorous novels purchased for him by Hakkai, newspaper cartoon collections, volumes of manga. He took down volume 10 of _Bleach_ and tucked the packet inside it, then put it in the exact center of the silk handkerchief. He folded the silk around the book, and after a moment's thought, wrapped it round and round with one of his own ties. Silk, of course, but stamped with the image of the cartoon character Marvin the Martian: Gojyo's gift, and Hakkai could not imagine that he would ever wish to wear it again.

The result was distinctly odd in appearance, but Hakkai did not intend anyone to see it. He opened the top drawer of his bedside table and removed a few slim volumes of poetry that he had like to read before bed sometimes: _Leaves of Grass_ , _The Rubaiyat_ , and a few others. He tucked the parcel into the drawer, well back, and covered it with the poetry books.

He suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. He managed to wash up and brush his teeth, then fell into bed and closed his eyes.

"Hey. You don't look so good."

Hakkai's eyelids felt glued together. He struggled to open them and at last was rewarded with Gojyo's silhouette, leaning over him. "I know. I feel terrible," he said. His voice came out as a croak.

Fingertips brushed his cheek, faintly warm. "Feels a little chilled. I'll warm you up, OK?"

A weight settled along his side, and a hand slipped under the covers, stroking his chest through the cotton knit of his pajamas. Hakkai reached out, threading his fingers through Gojyo's hair. He'd never imagined that a man's hair could be so soft, before he met Gojyo. Lips and a tongue brushed his neck, and a hand slipped under his waistband, stroking through his pubic hair. He was suddenly hard. 

"Missed me, huh?" Gojyo chuckled. Hakkai's pajama pants were tugged down. His cock was engulfed in mild warmth. It felt wonderful. He had not thought he was well enough to be so aroused. He came almost instantly, and that was the last thing he remembered.

The alarm went off. Gojyo's leather jacket was draped over his legs, and Hakkai was alone, fully clothed in his pajamas under blankets that didn't seem to be keeping him warm in the least. He shoved a shaking hand into his pajama pants. They were dry, clean. _So it wasn't a wet dream after all._

But as his fingers brushed over his flesh, he felt a small amount of dry, crusted stuff: exactly as though someone had given him a blowjob, and swallowed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _ **This**_ chapter should be eligible for The Last Dance.

Hakkai was dozing lightly, the blinds down against the late morning sunlight, when he heard the front door open. "Hakkai!"

It was Sanzo's voice. Hakkai tried to call downstairs to him, but his voice was a rasping whisper with no strength to it at all. "Hell," he heard Sanzo say, and then footsteps coming and going as Sanzo quartered the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Hakkai managed to push himself upright in bed but stopped short of standing up because he was suddenly not sure that he would be able to do it. Finally the footsteps came up the stairs, the bedroom doorknob turned, and Sanzo peered in warily. His face relaxed a little when he saw Hakkai.

"Goku said you sounded awful on the phone. He's really worried."

"I'll be fine," rasped Hakkai, and winced inwardly. He himself would not believe anyone who sounded like that.

Sanzo, unsurprisingly, gave him an exasperated look threaded through with worry. "When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?"

"Supper at the shop. Yesterday."

"Goku said you didn't have anything but a bowl of soup. What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing," whispered Hakkai. It occurred to him that he needed the toilet. He gathered himself to his feet, wavered, and sat down again, heavily.

Sanzo swore and strode into the room. He was wearing a tweed jacket and khakis; he must have come straight from class. He drew Hakkai's arm over his shoulders and put an arm around his waist, hauling him upright. Sanzo was surprisingly wiry and strong. "Where were you going, anyway?"

"Bathroom." He really didn't want Sanzo holding him up while he pissed, but it seemed he would have to do so. Sanzo seemed as relieved as Hakkai was when the operation was finished and Sanzo could ease him back into bed.

"Something's wrong," stated Sanzo, once he had retreated to the armchair.

Hakkai gave him an icy look. "My lover died."

"Yeah, but you were OK physically at the funeral. I'm going to get you something to drink."

Sanzo stomped downstairs. Hakkai lay back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling. Gojyo had meant to paint it, but things got busy and he hadn't. There were several faint cracks. One of them looked like a tree branch.

He realized that Sanzo was talking downstairs. It sounded like a phone call. And then another one. Hakkai hoped that he was not inviting anyone over. Dealing with Sanzo was quite enough.

Sanzo returned with a glass of orange juice and a large glass of water. "Drink," he said, depositing them on the bedside table.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Goku. He's got the store covered, and he's going to come make you some food and look after you this afternoon, when I have my philosophy seminar to teach. And Yaone's coming to look you over."

Hakkai winced. Yaone Koh was one of the student health doctors, as well as a member of the book club that Hakkai ran out of the store the last Wednesday of every month. "I don't think I'm sick."

"You're a doctor now? That's for her to decide."

"I just want to be left alone with my grief. I have that right!"

"Not if it's killing you."

"That's nonsense."

"Give me a break. You couldn't even walk ten feet to take a piss." Sanzo was looking over the titles in the bookcase. He jumped up and pulled out _Everything Is Illuminated_ and then settled into the chair again, pulling out his reading glasses. "Drink your juice," he ordered, opening the novel.

Hakkai pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. After a moment, he wondered why he was fighting about this, of all things, and drank the juice. A headache that he hadn't even registered eased a bit, and he drank the water as well.

"Huh," commented Sanzo, although he didn't look up from the page.

"What?" said Hakkai.

"Guy thinks he can write," said Sanzo, and for the next few minutes, there was no sound but the turning of pages. Hakkai closed his eyes again. He could almost feel Gojyo's fingers on his skin, as he had last night. But that was impossible. Still, he wished it were night again.

Time passed, empty. The front door opened and closed. "Hey, it's me," Goku called. Sanzo put the book down, the dustflap folded inside in lieu of a bookmark, and headed downstairs. There were kitchen noises for a while, and then Goku came up with a tray: a small omelet, whole-wheat toast with butter and raspberry jam on the side, a mug, Hakkai's one-person teapot, and a little pitcher of milk.

"I don't know whether I can eat all that, Goku," said Hakkai, but the smell of the toast suddenly made his mouth water. Goku set the tray down on the window seat and poured him a mug of tea, then passed him the breakfast, plate by plate, and watched while he ate. To his surprise, he was able to finish everything.

"That's better," said Goku. "How do ya feel?"

"Sleepy."

"Take a nap?"

"I suppose so."

Goku took the dishes back down. Hakkai dozed, dimly aware of when Sanzo left for his class. Goku woke him again with a bowl of curried lentil soup topped with a blob of thick yogurt and a fresh pot of tea on the side, then sat and played cards with him until Yaone rang the doorbell.

She came upstairs carrying an old-fashioned doctor's bag. "Hakkai, I'm so sorry you're not well."

"I'm sorry to put you to so much trouble."

"Not at all. What's wrong? Physically, I mean. Sanzo said you looked like death warmed over, and Goku said you hardly ate yesterday."

"That's our Sanzo: ever tactful."

"You do look pale. And as though you haven't been sleeping."

"I have, honestly," said Hakkai.

She shook her head and unpacked her bag onto the top of the dresser, then came over to take his pulse and his temperature, listen to his chest, and look down his throat. She produced syringes and blood vials, and took some samples. "Urine too," she said, and sent him off to the bathroom with a capped bottle.

At last she was finished and packed up her equipment and the samples. "What's the verdict, doctor?" said Hakkai, trying for a light tone.

"You look like a student who's pulled too many all-nighters. Your hands are shaking: did you notice? Your blood pressure is very low, as is your temperature. Your eyes aren't tracking well. You say you're sleeping, but it doesn't look like it. Are you having nightmares?"

"No. But I am dreaming a lot."

"About?"

"What do you think?" he said, not caring that his annoyance came out in his tone.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly. She took three bottles out of her bag and lined them up on his bedside table. They were already labeled for him: she had guessed ahead of time what she would find. "Multivitamins. Potassium. Zolpidem tartrate: that's a sleeping pill. I've only given you five of them. See whether they help."

He wasn't sure whether he wanted the sleeping pills or not. Had he actually been awake when he had seen Gojyo? "Thank you, Yaone."

"Please, I'm glad to help in any way I can, Hakkai."

She went downstairs again. Hakkai could hear her talking to Goku downstairs but could not make out what they were saying. Then she left and Goku came back up. "Got a chicken roasting for dinner. Wanna play cards again?"

"No, thank you. I think I'll read for a while,"

"OK," said Goku. "Hey, do ya think Gojyo would mind if I played with his video games?"

Something — Goku's use of the present tense, his sincere consideration of Gojyo's possessiveness over the Playstation, his fresh face? — made Hakkai feel teary all over again. "No, Goku: I think he would be glad for you to use them," he whispered.

"Thanks," said Goku, after giving him an anxious look. Hakkai waved him away.

Sanzo came back for dinner, and Hakkai dressed and went down for the meal. Goku did the dishes, and they played a few hands of cards. Finally, Hakkai said "Well, I guess I should get to bed. I hope I'll be able to go in to the store tomorrow. Yaone left me some medication."

He looked at them expectantly. Sanzo sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "We're staying overnight."

Hakkai was speechless for a moment. Then: "Sanzo, that's ridiculous."

"No, it's not. Something's wrong. I could feel it in your room. Something's happening at night. Maybe you don't realize it: maybe you're out cold when it happens."

"What in the world are you talking about?" But Hakkai's belly felt cold. If Sanzo was going to stop him from seeing Gojyo ….

And then he thought: that's insane. You've been dreaming. You had a nocturnal ejaculation because you dreamed of your lover.

But his pajamas had been dry: as though he had been given a blow job, not as though he had had a wet dream.

"You're taking your studies on occult phenomena a little too seriously. I hope you don't keep me awake," he said, at last. "Yaone said it looked like I hadn't been sleeping."

"I can be pretty quiet when I want to," said Sanzo. "Goku'll stay in your spare room. I'll sit up in yours."

"That should be a jolly night for you," said Hakkai, and he was only slightly ashamed of his sarcasm.

He was silent and tense as he got ready for bed. He took one of the sleeping pills and climbed into bed with his book. Sanzo settled down in the chair with his, still dressed but barefoot, his overnight bag at his feet. After about twenty minutes, Hakkai found that he couldn't keep his eyes open. "I'm going to sleep, now," he announced.

Sanzo produced a tiny book light from his bag and clipped it to the book. Hakkai turned off his bedside lamp and closed his eyes.

He woke to a warm body next to his and arms around him. "You feel so good," Gojyo sighed. Warm fingers combed through his hair, trailed down the side of his face, traced along his collarbone, started unbuttoning his pajama top. Hakkai's head was swimming.

"You do too," he panted. "Don't leave me."

Something whooshed through the air above their heads and hit the headboard with a thump. "God damn you," snarled Sanzo. "Get away from him!"

"Sanzo!" protested Hakkai. It took him a moment to even remember why Sanzo was there in the first place. He felt Gojyo pull away from him and sit up.

"What the hell are you doin' here, you pervert?" Gojyo said, angry and perplexed.

"I might ask you the same thing," said Sanzo. "You're dead. You died four nights ago."

"Th' hell I did! Look at me!"

"You and Hakkai went into Worcester," said Sanzo. "You saw Rennie and the Reverbs in concert. On the way back, you nearly ran over a teenaged girl on the Casterbridge Parkway. You pulled the car over and got out to try and get her off the road."

Gojyo's face grew still. He slid out of bed and moved toward Sanzo. To Hakkai's bewilderment, he was no longer dressed only in his boxers but instead in the black jeans and band T-shirt he'd worn the night of his death. Hakkai had last seen them in rags in a waste disposal bin at the hospital, bloody and cut to shreds by the emergency room staff.

"You crossed three lanes of traffic to get to the girl," said Sanzo, his voice steady. "You grabbed her and ran back. Just before you reached the shoulder, a truck came around the curve. You tossed the girl into the brush, and the truck hit you."

"No," said Gojyo, faintly.

"You were conscious when Hakkai went to your side. I don't know what either of you said—"

"Sanzo, no," whispered Hakkai, propping himself up on his elbows. There was a pain in his chest, and he felt so cold.

Gojyo turned and looked at him. His eyes were crinkled as though he was also in pain. One hand drifted to his hip. Then he turned to face Sanzo again, and his form wavered and grew at least a foot taller. "Nooo!" he roared, the word distorted and thickened.

Hakkai was frozen in horror, but Sanzo seemed unmoved. "In the name of all that is bright and holy," he said, and his voice changed from speaking to singing between one word and the next: "With all good spirits and all good will on our side, we turn away this unquiet spirit. As smoke is driven away, so he will be driven. As wax melts before the fire, so the unquiet spirit shrinks from the power of light." 

Gojyo's distorted form shimmered and melted downward to his normal height. Sanzo produced his lighter, and raising a metal bowl that Hakkai had not noticed before, he applied the flame to its contents, which caught and flared brightly. The scent of burning pine and incense drifted across the room. "We drive you from us, disembodied spirit. Leave this place and come not near this man, Hakkai Cho, whom you have harmed with your hunger and your need."

As Sanzo chanted, Gojyo's outline wavered, and his form turned transparent. "Be thou gone," sang Sanzo, on rising notes.

The ghostly form shimmered briefly and seemed to turn toward Hakkai. Hakkai started to reach out, and then, as though a strong wind had torn through the room, the shape was blasted and disappeared.

Silence. Hakkai collapsed back against his pillow. "What have you done?" he gasped.

Sanzo set the flaming bowl down on what seemed to be a baking sheet on the rug at his feet. "You saw. No one knows exactly why a revenant forms—it's not exactly common—but your partner has become one."

"That's—that's ridiculous."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," snapped Sanzo. "What did you just see? And why do you think you feel like shit? By welcoming him, you've allowed him to pull life force from you."

Hakkai shivered. He felt as bad as he ever had from the flu. Sanzo left his burning bowl and went to the door of the room. "Goku!" he barked. "Wake up!"

A moment later, Goku's footsteps sounded in the hall. "What happened?" he said.

"What I expected. It's gone for now. I need you to look after Hakkai while I ward the house."

"Aw, Sanzo, you should have woken me up! What if—"

"Forget about that. Take care of Hakkai."

Sanzo left the room, his footsteps clattering down the stairs. Goku came in with his hair all on end and put one hand on Hakkai's forehead. "Wow, you're cold as ice. Have you got a heating pad or an electric blanket?"

"Y-yes, a heating pad. In the linen closet in the hall, on the lowest shelf."

Goku got it out and set it up, placing it over Hakkai's abdomen. It helped but only a little. "I think you need a hot drink, somethin' with calories," said Goku. " I'll make you a milk punch, 'cept with only a couple spoons of liquor. You have some brandy or rum, don't ya?"

"Yes. In the sideboard, down in the dining room."

Goku left Hakkai alone with his heating pad and the glowing bowl on the rug. Hakkai stared at the coals that were left from Sanzo's holy flames. They blurred and wavered, and he felt tears welling in his dried-out eyes.

"What are you doing down here?" snapped Sanzo's voice, from somewhere below. Goku's reply was indistinct. "Well, hurry up. I'm not finished," said Sanzo. "I don't think it can come back before dawn, but I wouldn't bet money."

Goku came back with a steaming mug. His face rumpled with worry when he looked at Hakkai. "Aw, crud," he said and set the mug down on the nightstand. He sat down on the bed next to Hakkai and wrapped one muscular arm around Hakkai's shoulders. "It'll be all right," said Goku, his voice warm and gentle.

The tears spilled. "How can it be?" Hakkai croaked. "It was like watching him die all over again."

Goku sighed and rocked him gently. Below, the sound of Sanzo's rummaging around continued. Hakkai's head swam with exhaustion. Goku finally got him to drink the hot, sweetened milk. His last memory was of Sanzo coming into the room and doing something with papers and herbs in the north corner.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was setting over Daniel's Bend Park. Birds sang evensong in the trees behind the rock formation known as Daniel's Castle, which hunched at the top of the 30-foot cliff over the Passcasset River bend that had given the park its name. The last golden rays picked out the scratchings of generations of lovers: initials, crude hearts. "GS + HC 4 eva" said one scrawl. As the darkness gathered, the carvings dimmed until no human eye could have seen them.

The evening star and Jupiter were bright in the west when a mist came up from the stony ground at the foot of the huge rocks. It steamed over the carvings and clung there for a moment.

_"Gojyo, you're defacing public property!"_

_"Hey, look, it's already a mess of initials. One more set won't matter, babe."_

Hunger. Need. Longing.

A young stag, not long past its first year, was grazing at the edge of the woods. Suddenly it flung up its head, the whites showing around its eyes, but before it could run, it was seized by a fit of shaking. Gradually it collapsed onto the ground, eyes half closed. A few minutes later, its breathing stopped.

He looked down at the dead deer. People ate deer. He'd had venison once.

He had, hadn't he?

He was still hungry. There was a place down the road to get food. Here was the trail. It came out into the parking lot. 

Nothing was parked there. He felt a moment of panic. How had he gotten to the park?

He needed something to eat.

There was something warm and living on the far side of the gravel lot. He went over there and … he'd only touched it, he thought. A possum. It was dead and still now, dark, like the deer.

Dear Lord, what was he doing?

Home. He needed to go home.

As though the thought was carrying him, he found himself flying along the road at high speed, like he was on a motorcycle, maybe. It made no sense. He came to the park entrance, passed it, and turned toward town. He knew the route so well: they had come to watch the sunset from the rock a dozen times or more.

The sign for a highway on-ramp caught his gaze. _SR 85 / Casterbridge Parkway / Worcester / Toughton_. He felt repelled and intrigued at the same time and found himself drawn up onto the highway. Some vehicles were whizzing past, but not that many. He followed the road west. After a couple of miles, he saw a curious little heap of junk on the verge: a wreath of fading red roses, several small bunches of flowers, a six-pack of beer, a toy tiger, a carton of cigarettes, a T-shirt with a motorcycle logo, a small and shiny metal case that he knew was filled with wrenches. The feeling of simultaneous attraction and repulsion grew stronger. Tucked under the cigarettes was an envelope, face down.

Was his name on it?

He tried to pull it out, but his fingers went right through it.

In fact, he could see it through his fingers.

Oh hell no.

Home. He had to go home!

Back down the parkway, down the ramp, onto the road from the park. A left, another left, a right. There was the house, dark and still: wrong. He came up the walk, up the two steps, onto the porch. He reached into his pocket for his keys, but when he touched the screen door handle, white light flared, blinding him.

He found himself back on the walkway. The house was outlined with bars of white light. He cringed before it.

_"Be thou gone,"_ sang a voice in his ear.

He felt empty and shaken. Dimly, he remembered: in bed, together. Waking to find a flaring pale figure in the room.

_God damn you! Get away from him!_

_You're dead. You died four nights ago._

Five nights now.

_We drive you from us, disembodied spirit._

He looked down at his own hands. They looked real enough to him. He hunkered down and patted the walkway. He could feel the concrete, rough and cool, under his fingertips. He tried pushing them against the hard surface.

There was only a breath of resistance as his fingers sank in.

He collapsed onto the walkway, his thoughts every which way.

I'm a ghost. I'm hungry.

The dead deer. The dead possum. He shivered.

I want my lover.

Dull animal eyes, half closed in death. Oh God.

I need answers.

He stood up. Automatically, he went to his motorcycle and got on it, but when he tried to start it up, nothing happened.

I'm not really here. So I don't have any keys. Damn. Guess I can zoom over there on my own.

Wherever "there" was.

The streets and houses flew past. Here was the road, a dead end. There was the house, newer than theirs. A couple of the windows glowed with light.

He was so hungry. He found himself in the back yard. There was something live and warm there, behind the overgrown shrubs. That guy was no gardener. And now there was a dead cat under the bushes, too.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. This time he'd felt the draining warmth, felt it going into him, like hot soup on a cold winter's day, after shoveling snow.

The back door opened and someone came out.

"Watch out," he said to the other person. "I just killed a cat back there."

"Hnn," said the man. "You sound pretty rational." 

Pale skin, strange eyes, golden hair: this was the same person who had forced him from his house, from his lover's warm flesh. And now he knew why.

"I was gonna kill him. Eat him," he said flatly.

"Yeah. That's what ghosts do."

"Dammit." He aimed a kick at the rickety picnic table. It didn't make any more of an impression than his fingers had on the walkway. "This sucks so much! I don't even know who I am!"

The other was silent for a moment. Then: "Your name in life was Gojyo Sha."

It was like a little firework going off in his brain. Of course that's who he was! And the man he'd left behind in the house he called home was his lover, Hakkai Cho. This was Genjo Sanzo, the annoying professor who'd befriended Hakkai and helped Gojyo get him settled here in town. And somewhere, maybe in this house, was Sanzo's squeeze, a cheeky, scrappy kid named Goku Son, who'd somehow become like Gojyo's little brother.

He could even, if he thought about it, guess who'd left what in the sad little pile by the side of the Casterbridge Parkway. Which must be the spot where he'd … died. He groaned. "Why'm still here?"

Sanzo sat down on one of the picnic benches and put something on the table: a metal bowl. Gojyo flinched at the sound of the metal on the old, warped wood. "I don't know. The classic reason for the formation of a ghost is unfinished business, usually vengeance."

"I'm not mad enough at anyone to want revenge."

"Not even the truck driver who killed you?"

"Hell no. Why would he expect someone on the highway? It … it sounded like a big rig. He wouldn't have been able t' stop. Not his fault."

"Yeah, it was a semi." Sanzo produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the ratty old cardigan that he only wore at home, tapped out a smoke, and lit it. The smell of tobacco smoke was like a sudden pang of hunger.

"Can I have one?" Gojyo asked.

Sanzo looked him over. "What are you going to do with it?"

Damn. Yeah, how was he going to hold a cigarette?

But Hakkai seemed to feel his touch. Gojyo held out one hand. Sanzo frowned, shrugged, and passed him a cigarette.

For a second, it seemed like it was going to fall right through his ghostly hand. Then he did … something. And he had the cigarette, in his hand. "How 'bout a light?"

Sanzo flicked the lighter and slowly extended it toward Gojyo's cigarette. The flame caught his eyes and held them. It looked—tasty?

And also terrifying.

The end of his cigarette caught. "It'll go out," said Sanzo. "You need to draw on it."

Well, duh. He'd been smoking since he was thirteen. Except he used to have lungs back then. Frustrated, he watched as the cherry faded and went out. "Fuck," he said.

"Yeah, but you'd almost managed that one," said Sanzo, heartlessly. "At least enough to fool Hakkai."

"Don't you talk about him!" said Gojyo. Hakkai thought he was dead! Gojyo wanted to punch the old picnic table, but it wouldn't have done any good. No wonder ghosts were always angry. "Dammit, I can't smoke, prob'ly can't drink, an' if I screw around with my man, I'll kill him! Why the hell am I here _now_? Didn't you exorcize me or somethin' last night?" 

"Nope. I just banished you from the house."

"Well, why didn't you get rid of me? Ain't I an abomination or something?"

Sanzo seemed put out. He picked up his mental bowl and rattled its contents around. "I don't know," he said. "Aren't you still hungry? There can't be much life force in a cat."

Now that Sanzo mentioned it, he was. "Famished. I had a deer, too, and a possum. But you still look real tasty, Blondie."

"But you're not doing anything about it."

Gojyo scowled. "I'm not gonna kill you. You're an asshole, but that ain't a reason t' want you dead. Maybe if you were some real piece of scum, a murderer yourself or something …."

"No!" Sanzo slammed down his bowl. Lumps of stuff flew out and rattled onto the picnic table. "Don't start thinking that way. You still sound pretty human: don't be eager to change that. Go get another deer, if you have to. I need to think." He started to sweep up the lumpy crap with his hand.

"Careful, you're gonna get splinters. What is that shit, anyway?"

"Incense." Sanzo pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and used that to chase the little lumps off the edge of the table into the bowl. "Go on, get away from where there're people. Take another deer. Don't let yourself get too low on life force: you could get desperate and lose control. Check back with me tomorrow night."

Gojyo didn't want to go. He didn't belong in the park, eating animals. He wanted a rack of ribs, tangy with sauce, onion rings, a couple of beers, a cigarette.

He wanted Hakkai.

He watched Sanzo collect the rest of his incense and walk back to the house. He opened the door and looked back toward Gojyo

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" he said. "This is going to be tough enough to figure out without having to wonder if you're around here snacking on stray teenagers. Go back to the woods or wherever. You know I can force you, if I have to."

Gojyo shivered. And then he left.


	5. Chapter 5

The next evening, Hakkai sat down to a supper of Tandoor Palace's saag paneer, lamb kebab, and rice that Carter from the bookstore had dropped off. His appetite was still delicate, and he ended up putting away more than enough for another meal. There was a knock at the door as he put his plate into the sink, and he was unsurprised to find Sanzo on the porch. "Come in," Hakkai said. "Would you care for some tea?"

"If you're making it," said Sanzo. "Hnn. You look better."

Hakkai shrugged. He was stronger physically, he knew. The air that came in with his friend was chilly and damp, but apparently it had stopped drizzling, at least. Sanzo tossed his overcoat onto one of the hooks by the door and followed Hakkai back into the kitchen. Hakkai filled the kettle and set it on the stove, measured tea into the larger teapot, got out two cups, and then sank into the chair opposite Sanzo. He was unable to think of anything to say.

"I saw him," said Sanzo, abruptly.

Hakkai's mind sputtered and went blank. Then he stared at Sanzo. "What—you _killed_ …exorcized him, didn't you?"

"Nope. Just banished him from this house. Then I warded it, so he couldn't get back in." Sanzo tapped the breast pocket of his shirt, making the packet of cigarettes crinkle softly. He knew better than to smoke in Hakkai's place.

So had Gojyo known.

"But you saw him?" Hakkai said, at last, disbelieving.

"He showed up in my yard last night. He wanted to talk."

Hakkai blinked. "Is that typical?"

"Nope. Not at all. Usually ghosts are stuck on one track. They have one action they want to complete, or they re-enact the moments just before their death, over and over. He was lucid, rational even. He understands now that he had put your life in danger."

"How can that be?"

Sanzo shook his head. Hakkai noticed deep shadows under his eyes. "I've been researching this, trying to find some way to…I dunno. Help him? I mean, I could finish what I started when I banished him instead. But…I don't want to do that unless I have no other choice. It's like you said the other night, it would be like killing him all over again."

The kettle began its shrieking whistle. Hakkai took it off the burner and waited for the boil to settle. "How can he keep on existing like that?"

"I have to tell you, it's barely an existence. He's—living—no, _persisting_ by using the life force of animals: deer, possum, stray cats. But that's not as effective as human life force, apparently. How many times did he visit you?"

Hakkai filled the teapot, forcing himself to pay attention to the task. He was appalled at the idea of Gojyo lurking in the dark, killing animals to survive. "The night you interrupted him was the third."

"So he'd managed to take enough from you to continue, without killing you, for three days. But when I saw him last night, he'd used up three animals and was still famished, he said." Sanzo tapped his fingers on the tabletop as Hakkai set the timer. "But when he visited you, you could plainly feel him, like he was solid."

Hakkai flushed and crossed his arms, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "Yes. And he was warm."

"He asked me for a cigarette," said Sanzo. "I could see right through him. But I handed him one, anyway. For a moment, I thought it was going to fall right through his hand. He did too, he was completely dismayed. But then he did something—I could see him concentrating—and he managed to hold onto it. He's able to learn new behavior, even as a revenant. I'm completely at a loss."

"Why do ghosts…materialize?"

"Of the documented cases—and believe me, there aren't that many—it's what you might expect: a death under traumatic circumstances, a desire for vengeance on a murderer, or sometimes unfinished business."

Hakkai thought about his wistful memories on the night of the funeral. "We had meant to get married."

"Wow," said Sanzo, finally. "I'm not surprised, but…."

The timer beeped its triple chirp. Hakkai swirled the teapot gently and poured the tea through a strainer into the cups. He set one in front of Sanzo and sat down again with the other. "Aren't ghosts sometimes summoned?"

Sanzo gingerly sipped a bit of hot tea. "A couple cases, yeah. Why?"

Hakkai dropped his eyes to his own cup and tried not to think of the strange little bundle in his nightstand drawer.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Gojyo steamed up from Hakkai's compost pile once it was fully dark. He remembered hating the thing, when Hakkai was always insisting on putting the dead leaves and vegetable scraps and tea leaves out, but it was Hakkai's, and he'd felt weirdly comforted at going to ground there before dawn. He could see Hakkai's silhouette through the sheer curtains in the kitchen window: having supper, maybe. But there was no point in hanging around the house that he could no longer enter. He went to the park for some deer and then drifted back through town, ending up in Sanzo's yard again.

After a couple of minutes, the back door opened, but it wasn't Sanzo who stood there against the yellow light. "Is that you, Gojyo?" said Goku. He looked warm and alive, brighter than the animals.

"Careful," Gojyo said. "I don't wanna suck out your life."

Goku stopped. "You shouldn't be able to touch me," he said.

"You really want me to try?"

Goku shrugged and held out one hand. Gojyo gingerly reached out to touch his fingers, and white light flared. "Sanzo warded me," said Goku.

"Is he home?"

"No, he went to see Hakkai. I think he's going to tell him about seeing you last night."

Gojyo shivered again. He was still hungry.

"So I've been thinkin' about this." said Goku. "You need some kind of energy. That's why you're killing things. You're sucking the energy out of them."

"Yeah, that's what Sanzo said. Animals aren't as good as people."

"Food is no good, 'cause it's already dead."

"Yeah." Gojyo wished they weren't talking about this. It wasn't a Goku-type conversation. He looked down at the patio and saw the drizzle-sodden remains of the cigarette Sanzo had passed him last night. Damn. What a waste.

Goku followed his gaze. "Huh. Sanzo's usually more careful with his cigs than that." 

"He gave it to me last night. I figured out how to hold it, but I couldn't smoke it. No lungs."

Goku looked at him with wide-eyed sympathy. Gojyo scowled and crossed his arms.

"Hey, I know," said Goku. "Wait right there." He went back into the house.

Gojyo waited. It wasn't like he had anything else to do. Goku came back with a mighty armload of things: his portable barbecue grill , some charcoal in a bag, a steel charcoal-starting chimney, old newspaper, a lighter, and a box of Sanzo's unfiltered Marlboros.

"Won't he miss the cigarettes?" asked Gojyo.

"No, he only starts noticin' how many boxes are left when he's running out. I picked up ten cartons of them just last weekend, so he has lots." Goku put the pile down on the wet concrete and started setting up a fire in the grill. Gojyo wished the kid was setting up burgers, and that he himself could eat them. Goku made a great hamburger, and he'd also come in third last summer in the park's barbecue contest.

"Hey, are you gonna enter the farmers market pie contest?" he asked, because that was a much more normal thing to talk to Goku about.

"Yup," said Goku, his eyes on the smoke streaming out of the ventilation holes in the starter chimney. "I'll have t' use apples from the market. I was gonna go pick 'em myself but…."

Yeah, but Hakkai had been going to drive him out to the orchard. Damn. "You gotta learn how to drive yourself, sometime."

Goku sighed. "I know." They both watched the streams of smoke, silently. At last, Goku poured the glowing charcoal into the grill. Gojyo stared at the red-gold coals, attracted by and frightened of them at the same time.

Goku opened the package of cigarettes and dropped several of them onto the coals. They started to burn almost instantly. The rich smell of the tobacco rose and drifted. Gojyo put himself downwind and was engulfed in the cloud of smoke. It felt wonderful, like a warm shower.

"You're glowin' a little brighter," said Goku, watching with interest.

"Hell! I'm glowin'?"

"Yeah. But prob'ly not everyone can see it. Sanzo showed me how." He put some more cigarettes onto the coals and looked on as Gojyo basked in the smoke. "Are you still real hungry? Is the smoke helpin' any?"

Gojyo thought about it. "Sorry, kid; it's not workin' for that. But it's real nice."

"Aw, crap. I got another idea, though." Goku dumped the last of the packet onto the coals and ran back inside. Gojyo tried breathing in some smoke: hell, if he had functioning ghostly nose and fingers, why not lungs? It sort of seemed to work. Maybe.

He was still at it when Goku came back with—a battery? Yeah, a D cell battery, like for a big flashlight. "What 'm I supposed to do with that?" 

"It has energy in it."

"Well, yeah, but is that like life force? I mean, whoever heard of an electric-powered ghost?"

"People haven't been able to control electricity but for about a century. Maybe it's just that no one's ever tried it with ghosts before. Can you feel the energy?" Goku put it down on the picnic table.

Gojyo tried waving his hand through it. "Not really? But maybe I don't know what it feels like." He looked up at the power lines running into the house and then rose cautiously off the ground and hovered by the wires. He gingerly poked a fingertip into one. "Wow, OK, I feel that."

"What did it feel like?" asked Goku, as Gojyo floated down to his side again.

"Like eating hot peppers or something. Let's check out this battery again … ." Now he could feel the electricity in the battery, like a tiny current in the water. But he couldn't seem to do anything with it.

Oh. _There._ It was like … like sprinkling a few grains of sugar on his tongue. And then it faded away.

"Do you feel anything?" asked Goku.

"Sort of," said Gojyo. "I bet your battery's dead now."

Goku beamed. "That's so cool."

"I'm still really hungry, though." Goku's living warmth was pulling at him, but he didn't want to hurt him. And anyway, there was that white light thing that Sanzo had put on him.

"I'll go get some more," said Goku, eagerly, and he ran back into the house.

That would take an awful lot of batteries, thought Gojyo. But ….

His gaze drifted to the corner of the house, just below the roof, where the power came in from the utility pole. He was up there again as quick as thinking, hovering in the air. He could sink his fingers right into the cables, easy as pie.

Now he could _smell_ the power, even from the outside, like the cable was a hot pot of really spicy chili. He reached out, grabbed the cable, watched his fingers sink into it, like Hakkai's fingers sinking into bread dough.

It was like he was drunk, instantly. Warmth and energy sang through him, scorching him. He was glowing and filled with aggressive streams of bubbles, like a fresh glass of champagne on New Year's Eve.

Dimly, he heard a car door slam, Sanzo's voice shouting, Goku's answering. He drifted to the ground. Sanzo was standing on the weedy bricks of the patio, hands on his hips, while Goku dithered behind him with a big plastic storage crate full of all kinds of batteries. Gojyo wanted to tell Sanzo to knock it off, but his voice didn't seem to be working, and neither were the lights in the house. In all the houses on the block, actually. And Sanzo seemed to be singing at him again, but he didn't have his incense bowl. Too bad, Professor Know-It-All!

Gojyo was filled with boozy confidence that Sanzo's stupid prayer wasn't going to work. But when he got to the "Be thou gone" line, Gojyo found himself fleeing down the street as fast as he possibly could. He flashed over the avenues of the town, out onto the park road, back up toward the river. He found himself on Daniel's Castle and hovered there, fizzing and vibrating and probably glowing. He wondered whether there were any tripping teenagers in the park to appreciate him.

He had no idea how long he hung there, but suddenly he felt a feeling of dread, like the time he'd gone to the beach with Jien when he was little, and he'd realized a huge wave was about to crash down on his head. The birds were singing again, and the sky was going grey. Then the first rays of the sun came over the horizon, and he was spinning, overwhelmed, out of control, and at last, he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

It felt late when Gojyo steamed up from the base of Daniel's Castle, but he wasn't about to complain. After last night's shenanigans, he was relieved to be waking up at all.

He looked at the stars for a moment, but they didn't tell him squat about the time. He'd never been one of those outdoorsy guys who could read the sky, although with Hakkai's help, he'd learned to spot the North Star and some of the easier constellations. "Yo, Northern Cross," he muttered. "Good t' see ya again." And he meant it.

Then again, why was he glad to be here as a ghost? Yeah, man, you're still a ghost. You can't go home. You can't make love to the man you wanted to marry.

On the other hand, he wasn't hungry. Huh. He'd had a lot of energy last night. And son of bitch, Goku had been _right_ : you could power a ghost with electricity. Who knew?

He drifted up to the top of Daniel's Castle and sat there. The view was great, even in the dark. Or maybe his ghosty eyes were better for seeing shit at night than his live ones had been. The sky was almost clear, just a few tattered clouds, and there were a bazillion stars.

So he could get energy from power lines if he needed it. Yeah, but he'd put out the lights in Sanzo's neighborhood. Not good. And he'd be ripping off the power company too. But it was better than going nuts and then dying…or whatever it was called when a ghost stopped existing.

He needed to talk to Sanzo. If Sanzo would talk to him, that was.

Gojyo zoomed up the trail and out of the park, back into town. From the amount of traffic on the road and the darkened shops, he could tell that he had woken up much later than he had the last couple of nights. Damn, this was just wrong, sleeping in and then waking up in a park at night instead of in their warm bed in the mid-morning, with Hakkai cooking pancakes and bacon ….

As he turned the corner into Sanzo's neighborhood, a car slammed on its brakes in front of him, and he could see the driver peering at him, open-mouthed. _Damn!_ How could the guy see him?

Glowing. Goku had said he was glowing. But he'd also said other people couldn't see it. Whatever. This guy was looking straight at him.

Gojyo made a right-angle turn and fled into the leafy treetops in the yard of the nearest house. From there he did his best to sneak through back lots and hedges to Sanzo's place.

He hid in the underbrush near the property line as best he could, wondering whether he needed to do something to get Sanzo's attention. He shouldn't have worried: Sanzo came out in just a few minutes, bundled up in a wool pea jacket with a scarf. He deliberately looked away from Gojyo and said, in a low but carrying voice, "You have five minutes to figure out how to damp that damn glow, or I'm sending you back to wherever you've been hanging out when you're not haunting my yard. It's bad enough that you knocked out the power to all my neighbors last night and half of them saw you take off like a shooting star. They don't need to put up with glowing apparitions tonight too."

Crap. So this might be the second time around for that driver. Gojyo looked at his hand against the dark bark of the nearest tree and concentrated. It should be something like making his hand solid enough to hold a cigarette. He trembled with effort, listening to Sanzo's annoyed huffing as he lit a coffin nail and started to smoke in a furious fashion, but suddenly something seemed to slip into place, and Gojyo watched the glow subside. "OK?" he asked.

Sanzo glanced over at him and blew out a small cloud of smoke. "Huh. Not bad." He smoked in silence for a while, looking up at the sky and calming down as he did so. Finally, he said "How's the hunger?"

Gojyo slid out from the tangle of shrubs and vines and came over. "Gone for now, I guess I really took in too much last night."

"Electricity. It'd be totally ridiculous, except it obviously worked."

"Yeah, I owe Goku a lot. Where is he?"

"Helping with a dance party at the high school. He's actually getting paid. He wanted to wait around to see if you were still with us, but I told him to go take care of what he'd promised to do." Sanzo finished his smoke and smothered the butt against the bare dirt before tossing it into an old flowerpot that was half full of earlier contributions. "Can you make your hair look shorter? Maybe stuff it down the collar of your shirt? That long mop is kind of distinctive."

"What—why?"

"I'm going to take you somewhere."

Gojyo was puzzled but started to do as ordered. Except this was bullshit. He could seep through the ground and make his fingers get solid and turn off his energy glow. There must be something better he could do in the way of a disguise. Short hair…yeah, like Jien's. He concentrated for a moment.

Sanzo turned to frown at him, "I thought I told you…huh. OK, that works." 

Apparently, Gojyo had worked magic, but Sanzo didn't give a rat's ass, Typical. Gojyo wondered what he looked like. Sanzo was leading the way out of the yard to that old clunker of a Toyota Corolla he drove. He unlocked it. "Get in."

"I can ride in a car?"

"Why the hell not? Use your…whatever you have in your head at this point. You aren't sinking into the ground, right?" Sanzo climbed into the driver's seat. He hadn't opened the passenger-side door.

Gojyo stared at the door handle. Then he slowly reached out his hand and tried to work the business that had let him hold the cigarette. Only more. Much more. Finally, he was able to lift the door latch and climb in.

"Better," said Sanzo. "Looks like you just have to want to enough. Now close that door. We aren't going anywhere until you do."

If Gojyo had still had sweat glands, he'd have been sweating. Lifting the latch had involved just his hand and wrist. This would take his entire arm. Finally, the door swung shut.

"Took you long enough," said Sanzo, turning the key in the ignition. The old car roared into life, and Sanzo pulled out onto the road. "Hakkai says you were solid and warm when you were in bed with him. Tells me a lot about your priorities. But it does mean that you should be able to do most of the physical stuff you did in life, if you really want to."

Gojyo ignored him and used his newfound skill to flip down the sunshade on his side. As expected, there was a little mirror. But he wasn't reflecting in it.

"Same thing," muttered Sanzo. At the main road, he turned away from the town center. Gojyo glared at him and then turned back to the mirror. After a couple of miles, he was able to make himself solid enough to be seen in the mirror. He looked like a weird combination of himself and Jien: dark cropped hair, pale hazel eyes, tanned and scarred skin. "If you're finished primping, flip that up. It's distracting," said Sanzo.

Wow, thought Gojyo. I could be the perfect crook. Seep through the walls, solidify enough to open stuff. Change what I look like so witnesses won't be able to finger me. Can I take other things through walls with me? Probably not.

Besides, that would be a shitty thing to do. I shouldn't even think about it. You got a lot to answer for, Benjy Li.

If he were still with Benjy, he wouldn't have bothered to come back from the dead. "Where are we going?" he asked Sanzo.

"It's a surprise," said Sanzo.

Gojyo huffed—and realized that he'd actually made a puff of air. "Hey, got any smokes?"

Sanzo smirked. "Later."

They were coming up on Worcester the back way. This section of road was lined with business motels, fern bar-type restaurants, and gas stations, all catering to the business traveler. Tonight, Friday, it was all but deserted. Sanzo signaled a turn and pulled into a parking lot adjacent to a gas station. Five parking spaces were marked off with fresh white and green paint. _Worcester EV_ said the sign above them: _Fueling for Electrical Vehicles._

"Whoa," said Gojyo, impressed.

"Batteries were just a snack, Goku tells me," said Sanzo. "The power lines knocked you for a loop. This should be something in between." He got out and started looking over the apparatus.

Gojyo followed, looking around. "Anyone who comes by'll know something's up. That beater of yours is no electrical vehicle."

"That's why I'm not actually in one of the spaces, moron," Sanzo replied. "If anyone comes by and asks—we just got into an argument with our buddies in the bar about how these things work, and we decided to check it out." He looked around, adjusted his position with regard to the road, and then pulled out a credit card and swiped the reader attached to one of the consoles. "Pick up this plug and take a crack at it."

"Not all that hungry."

"Just as well. You'll be a little more patient about figuring out how it works."

Gojyo shrugged and went to take the plug. It was odd-looking, with five unequally sized contacts within a rubber gasket. He'd have to somehow imitate the socket on the car. He placed his palm over it and thought about his hand getting soft and stretchy, like putty. Nothing happened. He glanced at Sanzo, who was serenely reading all the disclaimer bullshit on the charging station console. Gojyo went to read over his shoulder and saw there was a diagram of how to place the charger plug into the car's receptacle.

As he puzzled his way through it, suddenly he felt a tingle in his hand, and then the warmth was seeping through him, just like when he drained a deer. Sanzo's eyes flicked to the meter. "Huh. There you go."

Gojyo watched the numbers tick up. When he felt "full," he'd only used about $5. He gently wriggled his hand away from the plug and stared at the holes he'd unconsciously made for it. "Ugh, that's creepy."

Sanzo looked and then rummaged for his cigarette box. "Yeah, but it beats killing things."

Gojyo slowly turned to look at him. "Holy shit. I…I'm good to go. Ain't I?"

"If Hakkai buys a Prius or something. And charges it at night. This is the closest service station that has a charging station."

"No, he can set up a charging station at home. We were gonna do it at the garage. It's easy an' doesn't even need a special power line into the building. Hell, I might even be able t' get some from an appliance outlet, if I'm careful."

Sanzo fished out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips, then handed another to Gojyo. "Congratulations. Still, after you have your happy reunion with your boyfriend you'd better start thinking about a few other things. Like people are going to get weirded out if Hakkai gets over your death too fast. Not to mention if someone actually sees you through the window at night." He pulled out his lighter and lit their smokes.

Gojyo drew on the cigarette carefully. The smoke made him feel happy and mellow. He wondered whether it was just because he _expected_ to feel that way. Sanzo stepped back from him and looked him over critically. "I thought so. Pay attention while you're enjoying your smoke. Your feet are fading out."

Damn. "I'll get better with practice."

"Make sure you do. Hakkai's got enough troubles. Speaking of which, let's get going." He dropped his cigarette into the gutter and crushed it under his heel.

"Where?"

"Don't you want to go home?"

Gojyo stood stock-still for a moment, and the cigarette fell through his fingers. Then he got hold of himself, crushed it out, and got into the car.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Hakkai closed his book. His head hurt a little and he felt tired, but not really sleepy. He thought again of Gojyo, wandering the night, sucking the life out of animals. His nose and eyes burned.

He was about to turn off his bedside light when the phone rang.

He glanced at the display. Sanzo's cellphone number glowed at him. He picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Glad I caught you awake," said Sanzo. "You've got a visitor."

"What?" Hakkai was startled and confused.

"Come on down and let him in," said Sanzo. "Make sure you tell him he's welcome to enter. Otherwise the wards will get him." The line went dead. Hakkai stared at the handset, bewildered. Surely he couldn't mean….

Hakkai got out of bad, jammed his feet into his slippers, and put on his bathrobe. He went downstairs and crossed the living room to the front door.

When he opened it, he found Gojyo standing on the porch. "Gojyo!"

Gojyo smiled at him, looking oddly shy. He turned his head to look back toward the street. Sanzo was leaning against his car, his cell phone in his hand. He nodded once, firmly, and gave Hakkai a thumbs-up.

"C-come in, Gojyo," said Hakkai. "You're welcome…oh my God!" He stepped back to allow Gojyo to enter.

Gojyo seemed to brace himself and then came through the doorway. Hakkai shut the door behind him, and they stood staring at each other. "Come here, you." said Gojyo at last, softly.

Hakkai threw himself into Gojyo's arms. Gojyo smelled faintly of smoke and felt solid and even warm. He nuzzled Hakkai's neck, and Hakkai felt a sense of well-being and rightness. "How? How is it you're here? Are you—?"

Gojyo straightened and put both hands on Hakkai's shoulders. "I'm still dead. Still a ghost. Or somethin'. But Goku figured out that I could use electricity for energy…."

Hakkai laughed, startled and incredulous. "That's ridiculous."

"That's what I said. But look, here I am. An' I'm not making you sick, am I?"

"No. In fact I felt good when I held you."

"Heh. Maybe on a full charge, I can give some back to you." He pulled Hakkai into his arms again, and they clung together. Hakkai knew every curve, every rise and fall, every hardness and softness of the body pressed against his. He sighed against Gojyo's neck and pressed a kiss there. There was skin beneath his lips, smoky and faintly salty.

"Can we go t' bed?" said Gojyo, and his breath stirred Hakkai's hair.

"Please," whispered Hakkai, and then they were stumbling up the stairs together and into the dimly lighted bedroom. Gojyo looked around the room slowly, as if savoring the sight. He smiled at the leather jacket lying on his side of the bed and picked it up.

"You missed me," he said, and his eyes were kind and warm.

"Yes," said Hakkai. He hung up his bathrobe and sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes fell on the nightstand, and he froze.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Oh, Gojyo," whispered Hakkai. "This may all be my fault."

"What do ya mean? I was hit by a truck."

"Yes but—I think I made you come back as a ghost."

Gojyo tossed the jacket onto the rocking chair and came to sit next to Hakkai. "How'd you do that, huh?"

Hakkai opened the nightstand drawer and moved the poetry books, then pulled out the package. He held it out to Gojyo.

Gojyo looked it over, a strange expression on his face. "Yeah. OK. That was it."

"What?"

Gojyo leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "I never painted that, did I? Well, I can't really remember the accident, and sure as hell I can't remember afterward. But then…I was lost. I was tryin' t' get home, and then I saw somethin' glow. It was warm and I wanted t' go to it. And then I did, and I was here. With you. I can still feel it pullin' me. I thought it was you, yourself, but it was that."

Hakkai's eyes felt damp. "I shouldn't have done it."

Gojyo flopped back onto the bed. "Why not? I'd be dead anyway. And I wouldn't be with you. I know I'm kind of weird now, but…look, even if I thought that I would've been up in Heaven doin' the hokey pokey with the angels, I'd rather be here with you."

He put one hand on Hakkai's thigh. The weight was real, and so was the warmth. "You're really still a ghost, though."

Gojyo sighed. "Yep. Look." He held up his hand, then brought it down on the bed next to Hakkai— and through the quilt. It was exactly as though the quilt were the surface of a pond. Then he drew it out again and stroked Hakkai's back. "Still want to go to bed with me?"

Hakkai cradled the package in his hands and thought. "Gojyo. If you had survived the accident, crippled and scarred, I would still want you. Would you think that was so strange?"

"I might feel bad about it. I wouldn't be the man I was. What if we couldn't have sex because of it?"

"I'd still love you." Hakkai whispered. "Making love is good, but it's not all we are."

"Well, then we've still got that, right? What's between us is still here."

"Yes. And I still want you, even if you're not 100 percent the same. What's still the same is what counts."

"Well, then, you better put that thing someplace safe. 'Cause if you want me, I don't wanna be anywhere else."

Hakkai tucked the package back in the drawer, under the books. And Gojyo grasped his arm and pulled him down onto the bed.

They rolled against each other, on top of the quilt. Hakkai ended up on top, Gojyo warm and solid beneath him. He kissed Gojyo with his complete concentration, feeling the softness of his lips, the hardness of the teeth behind them. Gojyo slid his palms up under Hakkai's jersey pajama top, warm and slightly callused, awakening Hakkai's nerves as they went. He pulled at the top, and Hakkai reared up to take it off, over his head. He'd barely tossed it aside before Gojyo's lips were on his nipple, sucking. He let Gojyo roll him over onto his back and trail kisses down his belly to the waist of his pajama bottoms.

With a shock, he realized that Gojyo was no longer wearing jeans and a T shirt. Instead, he was wearing nothing but his favorite boxers, with the little skulls and crossbones emblems scattered over them. Hakkai knew those boxers were folded neatly in the dresser drawer. Did it matter? 

Warm lips stirred the faint down on his belly, and strong hands tugged the pajama bottoms down and off. Hakkai kicked his legs free and felt a warm tongue licking along his shaft, down to the roots, and over his balls. Without looking, he rummaged in the drawer of the nightstand on Gojyo's side of the bed and got out the lube. Would they need lube? Who cared?

Gojyo was rubbing his erection along Hakkai's thigh, now, and Hakkai reached down to peel off his boxers. He could feel them, but as he pulled them off, they faded to nothing. _Think of all the laundry I won't have to do_ , he thought and burst into semi-hysterical laughter.

Gojyo rolled him over and bit his nipple gently. "What's so funny, babe?"

"Nothing," gasped Hakkai. "Let me up. Roll over."

Gojyo smirked knowingly. "Whatever you say, man." He settled onto his belly with a contented little hum. Hakkai kissed along the graceful line of his spine, licking where it vanished into the cleft of his buttocks, and then stroked his lubed fingers down and into warmth and tightness. When he pushed in, Gojyo was snug and hot and perfect. For a moment, they just lay there, locked together. Gojyo pulled Hakkai's hand to his mouth and gently bit his fingers. "Come on, man, don't make me wait."

Hakkai thrust into him, and Gojyo arched his back and pressed back against him. There was no way, Hakkai thought, that he was going to last long tonight. He rocked into Gojyo again and again, and hoped that his lover would understand. But when Hakkai moaned out his climax, Gojyo echoed him, and they lay at last wrapped around each other, content and drowsy.

Hakkai finally had to get up and visit the bathroom. When he came back, Gojyo was glowing faintly in the dark, and he seemed slightly translucent. When he smiled, he grew more solid. Hakkai climbed into bed and held him tight. "I suppose you won't be here in the morning."

"Nope. Matter of fact, I gotta go as soon as you're really asleep. Th' sun scares the hell out of me."

"Where will you go?"

He could feel Gojyo's smile against his neck. "Into your compost heap."

"Oh, Gojyo. You always hated that thing."

"Not now I don't. It's something we made together."

"I guess we did. You'll be back tomorrow night?"

"'Course I will. Go to sleep, babe."

Gojyo's fingers stroked through his hair. Hakkai felt deeply sleepy, sated, and content. Comfort and warmth seemed to flow into him from Gojyo's fingertips, and soon he was deeply asleep.

* * *

_Not Quite the End_

 


	7. Coda

Happy Hour was just getting started at Mooney's Bar and Grille, one of the finest such establishments in Mercersville—at least, according to the proprietor. The visitor sipped his top-shelf whiskey and listened to the regulars shooting the breeze. When the talk turned to the town's recent uptick in population, he waited for a lull in the anecdotes and posed his question. "Have you had any real oddballs moving in?"

"Depends what you mean by _odd_ ," said the bartender, a solid woman with her dark hair in a severe asymmetrical undercut. She looked him up and down, taking in his handsome but slack features, wire-rimmed glasses, and rumpled suit. 

"You're from out of town yourself, aren't ya?" said one of the storytellers, a wiry man with a beer gut. He'd been talking of the extravagant custom homes he was putting up along Canyon Road.

"Indeed I am," said the stranger. "I was considering interviewing for one of the jobs at the university. I was just trying to figure out what I might be getting myself into."

"Oh, all kinds of newcomers because of that university expansion!" said another, a tall, sturdy man with a receding hairline crowning a tanned face. "I'm thinking I can open a second location. Lots of kids with free time and daddy's money to spend."

"What's your line of business?" asked the stranger.

"Sporting goods. Always a steady bet around here."

"Uh-hmm," said the stranger. "So mostly you're getting all-American types who like the great outdoors?" He reached absent-mindedly into his jacket and brought out a package of cigarettes.

"Nope, mister, put 'em away," said the bartender. "You're in Washington State. No smoking in bars, restaurants, and most other places."

The stranger met her eye and something dangerous flashed there for a second, but then he smiled faintly and put them back in the inner pocket, "What a shame," he murmured.

"Not for me," she said. "I like my lungs the way they are."

He raised his eyebrows and turned back to the sporting goods man. "Outdoorsy people," he prompted. "Most of your newcomers are that way?"

"Enough of 'em," said Sporting Goods.

"Yeah," said the builder, "But there're plenty of artsy types too, and brainiacs. They're bringing a bunch of new businesses: coffee shops, boutiques, a good-sized Apple computer store. Hell, I'd have thought bookstores were pretty dead, what with the online places, but there's a new one right up on Alder, near the main university entrance."

The stranger seemed interested. "A bookstore! I should check it out."

"Closed by now," said Sporting Goods. "You should be able to catch 'em tomorrow, thought, if you're around." He tossed back the rest of his beer and squinted at the stranger. "Huh. Funny. You look a little like the owner, now that I'm thinking of the place."

"A handsome chap, then," said the stranger, amusement in his voice.

"Oh, yeah, the bookstore guy?" said an older woman, snagging an empty stool. She had ash blond hair, a skillfully made-up face, and a stylish leather jacket. "He's taken, though, and even if he weren't, he bats for the other team."

"Ah. The Gay, as the kids say," said the stranger. "I imagine you've been seeing more of that."

Sporting Goods shrugged. "That's not what I call a problem. Their money's just as green as anyone else's. This ain't some fundie town out in the sticks."

Leather Jacket nodded. "Too bad about his hubby, though."

"Yeah, too bad," said the builder. "Kendall's a good guy; must be tough, not being able to take the sunlight that bad."

The stranger looked puzzled and made an enquiring sound.

"Yup," said the builder. "He's got some strange disease. Can't go out in the daytime at all. He works the overnight shift at McKinney's Motorstop. Does a good job, and we're glad to have him. I had friends up from Walla Walla a few weeks back. They meant to drive back after supper, but the car wouldn't start at all. Officer Contreras got it towed over to McKinney's and Kendall got it all squared away in less than an hour."

"An asset to the community," agreed the stranger. "Although he sounds like an odd match for a bookstore owner."

The bartender shrugged and wiped down the nearest section of the bar. "People like who they like," she said.

"Rough trade," murmured the stranger. "How did they end up in Mercersville?"

Leather Jacket looked at him sharply. He looked back at her, as bland as a block of tofu. She turned away abruptly and spoke to the bartender. "Kelly, lemme have a Manny's Pale, please." 

Sporting Goods chuckled. "She's right, dude, you're kind of nosy."

The stranger quirked his eyebrows and looked sad. "I did say I might be moving out here. It's a pleasure to hear about an independent bookstore, and then the story of the owner's husband got me curious. That's all."

"I think the bookstore guy, Cho, knows one of the professors at the university," said the builder. "One of the batch that came out here last year when the new programs started up."

Leather Jacket sipped her ale and then set it down precisely on the coaster. "Which department were you checking out at the university?" she said.

"Biology," said the stranger. 

"I'm the chief admin for the College of Arts and Science," she said. "They filled the last bio position two weeks ago."

"Ah," said the stranger. "That's too bad." He didn't seem unduly worried. "You wouldn't happen to have a fellow named Sanzo on staff, would you? I knew his father."

"All the staff listings on the uni website are up to date," said Leather Jacket. "You can look up whatever you need to know. Kelly, what's tonight's special burger?"

"It's the cheddar-stuffed burger with JoJo's special sauce," said the bartender. "Pineapple slaw and thick-cut fries on the side. Want one?"

Sporting Goods grinned at the stranger and turned his back on him. "I'll have one, Kelly. Medium rare, with two-three slices of tomato."

"That just makes the sauce watery, Rob," objected the builder.

The stranger waited a couple of minutes, but no one seemed to want to discuss the bookstore owner and his connections anymore. Finally, he set down the money for his tab and wandered off.

Outside, he climbed into a late-model black Audi and pulled a slim notebook computer out of a briefcase. He consulted some documents on it, then tried the Web. Unfortunately, the WiFi signal from the coffee bar two doors down was too weak. He finally resorted to his smartphone, and after a few minutes, he smirked smugly at its small screen. "Bingo," he crooned.

He tucked away his laptop and then got out to rummage in the trunk. He drew out a backpack, and into it he tucked a pair of binoculars and a camera with a long lens, Then he locked the laptop into the trunk in place of the backpack, got back into the Audi, and drove to the north side of town.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

"Hey, Hakkai!" said Goku. "Sorry we're early!"

"No, it's perfectly fine," said Hakkai, opening his front door. "It's still lovely out. I'd be happy just to sit here with you two until Gojyo's up and about."

Hakkai and Gojyo's new house had a front porch, like their old one back east, but in almost every other respect, it was different: a modern home shingled in cedar, with a balconied master suite over a generous garage. Hakkai sank into one of the cushioned rockers, Sanzo took the other, and Goku settled contentedly on the bench. Sanzo and Goku's house, only a single story and L-shaped, was visible across the road and four houses closer to the town center.

"How did your class schedule end up, Sanzo?" Hakkai asked.

"Not too bad," said Sanzo, digging out his cigarettes. He looked questioningly at Hakkai, who sighed and nodded.

"Be my guest," he said, and fished a metal ashtray off the window sill.. "So you didn't have to take that 8:00 a.m. lecture?"

"Nope." Sanzo lit up. "Only three lecture classes, plus one senior seminar. My grad student seems very organized. Life is fine, as far as that goes."

"And Goku has kept you up to date on the shop," said Hakkai. "He makes a good assistant manager."

Goku beamed. "Funny, though, I miss makin' coffee drinks."

Sanzo pressed the toe of one boot against Goku's foot, briefly. "I like having good coffee in the morning and in my thermos."

Goku ruffled his own hair and smiled down at the boot. "Regular coffee's pretty basic, though."

"Hnn," said Sanzo and blew out a stream of smoke. Hakkai smiled and rocked peacefully for a few minutes. The Wenatchee Mountains brooded to the north, their forests just starting to be touched by autumn's paintbrush.

"How's Gojyo?" said Sanzo, abruptly.

Hakkai sighed. "About the same. He enjoys his time at the garage, but he really misses being able to have a normal social life outside of work. And drinks, and food."

"He still doesn't get anything much when he makes the little bites and sips disappear?" asked Goku.

"No," said Hakkai. "He can get a bit of a buzz off the alcohol, but that's about it."

"That sucks," said Goku.

"He's still pretty philosophical about it," said Hakkai.

"No sign of any attraction to inhuman practices?" asked Sanzo. "No hunting when he doesn't need it?"

"No, he still hates that," said Hakkai. "He says he'll never forget what it feels like 'when the lights go out' in a victim."

Sanzo smoked a minute in silence, the red rays of the sinking sun turning his streams of smoke rosy. "Probably the best choice for a ghost anyone could have made," he said, at last.

Hakkai sighed. "I daresay he'd find that as cold a comfort as I do."

The front door opened. Hakkai jumped to his feet. "Gojyo! The sun is still up!"

Gojyo smiled. He was wearing shades, a long-sleeved black shirt, jeans, and black Western boots. His hands were deep into his pockets, and his collar was turned up. "The clothes are real, babe," he said. He stepped away from the door and into the last rays of the setting sun.

Hakkai winced and made as though to grab him. Sanzo sat frozen in place, his cigarette ash growing. Goku shrieked: "What're you tryin' to do, you cockroach?"

Gojyo sat down slowly on the front steps, turning his face so the red light ran over it. He took his hands out of his pockets and spread his fingers under the light as well. "Yeah, I can do this," he said. "It's like a strong wind or somethin' pushin' against me. But it's not blowin' me apart now. I've been workin' on it."

Hakkai breathed again. "You've been working on this when I was out," he said, annoyed.

"Yup, guilty as charged." He turned his head and grinned at his husband.

"How long can you deal with it?" said Sanzo.

"About 20 or 30 minutes," said Gojyo. "We got only five minutes left tonight. If you'd think about it, you should've noticed I was stayin' up longer in the mornings."

Hakkai realized this was true. Goku sprang to his feet and threw his arms in the air, as though Gojyo had scored a touchdown. Sanzo nodded, slowly. "You're having to concentrate," he stated.

"Yeah, professor, I am. But think about this. Do I even look like I did before the accident?"

Hakkai stared at him. Then he brought out his wallet and removed two pictures, one tucked behind the other.

One was a picture of Gojyo that they'd managed to take one night a month ago. The other was a shot Hakkai had taken more than a year ago, soon after they'd moved in together. He held it up so the other two could see.

Today's Gojyo was much lighter-skinned than the Gojyo in the picture. He even had a dusting of pale freckles across his nose. His face was a bit blunter and less refined, and his eyes were a dark grey instead of pale hazel. His cropped hair was dark auburn instead flaming red. It had all happened so gradually, Hakkai had hardly noticed.

"Guess what, Blondie?" said Gojyo. "I don't even have to concentrate on any of that anymore."

Sanzo nodded, slowly. "Impressive."

The last limb of the sun was slipping past the mountains. "It's not like I have anythin' else t' do, most of the time," said Gojyo. "There's only so much video games I feel like playin' when I'm back from work an' Hakkai's still asleep. I started thinkin' about what sucked the most, an' what I could do about it. An' then I did it." He smiled. "I think I even sucked up some o' the sun's energy just now. Maybe some day soon we won't even need t' spend money t' keep me powered."

"There's got to be something wrong with that," said Sanzo, at last. "But that's another issue for another day. Let's get going. I want that beer."

They piled into Hakkai's white Prius and headed into town. As they made the first turn, Hakkai noticed a man on the corner with a camera on a tripod. It had an impressively long lens. Then the Prius finished the turn, and Hakkai had other things to think about.

The stranger watched them disappear around the corner and then checked the photos he'd taken. Genjyo Sanzo's face was clearly visible in the one where he was waiting for Goku to climb into the back seat. The stranger smirked at the image and then started to strike and pack his equipment, singing softly to himself, slightly off-key:

_Every breath you take_  
_Every move you make_  
_Every bond you break_  
_Every step you take_  
_I'll be watching you_

 


End file.
